


Holy Light

by Elizabeth_Firebreath



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Multi, Racism, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:09:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3507797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth_Firebreath/pseuds/Elizabeth_Firebreath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilbert had always been told that because of his white hair and red eyes, he had been chosen by God to be the guardian of Princess Elizabeta of the Holy land. But Gilbert doesn’t feel special, or even like a particularly good or devote person. Yet Antonio, who dedicated his life to faith is scorned because of his less than ideal hair and skin color.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holy Light

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fair Warning  
> This story has a lot of religious undertones. It’s an alternate universe medieval setting. I have always associated Prussia’s character with religion. Mixed in with that came some ideas that stemmed from the tendency of fair skin to be more attractive back in the day and some beautiful epic fantasy novels, namely, Brandon Sanderson Stormlight Archives, where light eyes where considered blessed by god and more free of sin than dark eyes. A class system that can really only be described as racist popped into my head, developing into this story. Also, at the beginning of the story the main characters are pretty young. For the most part swallowing whatever their elders tell them. This will change. The story is all about these character rebelling against their class system and unjust authority.  
> Please do not be too offended by some of the things said by the characters. Some of them are going to be really racist and really sexist. It’s just a part of the society I have created. These no way this represents my opinions on anything.  
> Also this story is pretty genderbent. Most of the characters are a part of one or another royal court. All marriages are made to produce heirs and further the family line. Therefor I really do have to change allot of the male characters female in order to let them interact in the court the way I want them to. (Gender changes include but are not limited to France, Italy, Romano, Canada and America)  
> This is written like an epic fantasy. I am not saying it is one, it’s going to be to on the short side for that. What that means is that it is going to have a lot of exposition.

_Gilbert hated Holy Days_

 

* * *

 

He was abruptly awakened with a pillow to the face. Disoriented, Gilbert almost fell off the bed.

“But I don’t want to!” Gilbert moaned, burying his head further in the mattress.

“What a rather pointless statement.” Elizabeta was already dressed in her white habit. She stood imposingly, hands on hips, above Gilbert “You act as if your preferences matter. They don’t, so get up.”

“Five more minutes!” Gilbert begged lifting the warm, soft, quilt he was tangled in over his head to escape the grating voice of his companion. Sometimes he really wished he wasn’t required to share a room with the bossy princess. But tradition was tradition.

“If you do not get out of the bed by the time I count to three. I will hit you with the next cooking utensil I can find, whether that’s a wooden spoon, a frying pan, or an oven.” Elizabeta threatened.

“Are you this nice to all your sworn protectors?” Gilbert asked sarcastically.

“Only you.” Elizabeta smiled a bit “One.”

 

* * *

 

_It was only downhill from there._

 

* * *

 

               

“How’s our favorite princess?” asked Antonio. The two friends were standing in line waiting to receive a slip of parchment from the Holy brothers which would direct them to their assigned seat.

“She threatened to hit me with an oven today.” Gilbert complained.

“Oh, so a good mood then.” Antonio nodded.

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“Gilbert!” called a voice. He turned to see his not so little brother Ludwig coming toward him. “You don’t need to wait in line. You always sit in the same place.” What Ludwig said was true; being the purest man in the city meant that he always sat in the very last seat. Gilbert just preferred to wait with Antonio anyway. It was one of the only times he could talk to his best friend on Holy Days.

The blond boy shot a disapproving glance over at Antonio and Gilbert bristled. He hated those looks. It was as if Antonio was some heathen from the black lands. His friend prayed more on any given Holy Day than most had in the week prior. Antonio and his parent’s darker complexion, however, stood out amidst the blond haired blue eyed natives.  They were among the few families from the Southern provinces residing permanently in the city.

 Ludwig pulled Gilbert out of line, walking with him to the doorway. Even at twelve, three years younger than Gilbert, he was already just as many inches taller and much broader in the shoulders. This was extremely annoying when Gilbert tried to pull the age card.

“You shouldn’t act like that!” Gilbert snapped referring to the look of disgust directed at his friend.

“I didn’t say anything.” protested Ludwig, who didn’t even seem guilty. Then he paused giving his brother a meaningful look, “But you know very well father, and many others, would.”

 Gilbert shot him an aggravated look.

 

* * *

       

_And then there was church_

 

* * *

    

“Albert was a prince of a kingdom in the far west, of what is now the land of Èternel. One night God spoke to him and told him to go south to the Land of the Dark Ones to try to save their immortal souls.”

Gilbert struggled to pay attention, but his mind kept wandering. He sat in the farthest pew from the front.  Looking around at the other attendees, he could see the fair hair slowly fading into brown then black. The darker your eyes, hair and skin, the closer you were assigned to sit in the church Apparently being nearer to the booming voice of the priest helped fight against innate sin.

The Priests told the story of Albert at the beginning of every Holy Day church service, as if everyone didn’t already know it. Gilbert fought the urge to sigh and slump. Unfortunately, while he may be at the back of room away from the prying eyes of the priests, he sat next to the king. the second most holy man in the city and Elizabeta’s father. There was no way he could get away with tuning the words out or doing anything that suggested boredom.

“-They built the city of Heilige Zentrum ruled by God through Hajnal’s line throughout the centuries.”

Gilbert recognizing the awkward part was coming. In a few seconds the priest would start talking about the queen’s protector Eckerd the Sacred, Gilbert’s predecessor.

“On Albert and Hajnal’s way to the Western planes they stopped in a small town to try to spread the word of god to the inhabitants. A few hours after arriving, Hajnal was attacked and savagely beaten. She was saved by a beggar with white hair and red eyes. Headless of his own life, he threw himself against her attackers armed with only a small knife against their mighty swords. But because God was with him, Eckerd the Great was able to defeat the men without sustaining even a scratch.”

As the preacher mentioned Eckerd the Great’s name, Gilbert strained his already stiff poster and trained his eyes forward. He could feel the congregation around him sneaking glances in his direction while the priest talked. And talk he did, praising Eckerd the Sacred and his successors for what seemed like hours but were probably only a few maddeningly long minutes.

 “God told Albert that this man was the holiest in the land. Albert made the man, as a reward for saving his wife, her scared protector-“

Blessedly, the priest eventually moved on. Gilbert relaxed slightly. There were five more trouble spots in the service, but that one was always the worst.

This was because the tradition followed that when the oldest daughter of the reigning monarch was born the lands would be scoured for a man with white hair and red eyes to be her protector.

That’s was Gilbert.

               

* * *

           

_Starvation and boredom came next._

 

* * *

          

After the service, there were still hours before noon. But missing breakfast and the energy it took to keep up appearances had made him ravenous.

Usually Gilbert would have wolfed down a hefty amount of food by now. One of the kitchen maids would make him some sort of warm gooey pastry, left by the door to the princess’s rooms, still hot when Elizabeta and Gilbert left. Elizabeta didn’t approve, but that was probably because she wasn’t getting any herself, and he never shared. It would be rude! The girl had baked it for him and if she saw him giving pieces to other people, she might think he wasn’t in love with her cooking. He wouldn’t want her to get that idea; she might stop cooking for him then! That pastry, plus breakfast with Ludwig and whatever his brother hadn’t eaten. Around this time he and Elizabeta would have snuck off with Antonio to the tomato gardens. Gilbert didn’t understand the strange obsession the other boy had with the fruit, but he would admit they weren’t not half bad.

Unfortunately on Holy Days Elizabeta ate with her father, which meant Gilbert had to also.

As if sitting next to the King for hours in the chapel wasn’t enough, Gilbert had to sit awkwardly around a small round ornately carved table in the middle of a small round ornately decorated room. Not only did the King break his fast at an insanely late hour but he wasn’t the greatest conversationalist. The silence during the meal was deafening, and if it hadn’t been the King sitting across the way, Gilbert would have felt competed to fill it. The servants came in with a full platter of delicious food taunting Gilbert but only given him a spoonful or if he was lucky, two. Even after six courses, he could still feel his stomach growling.

With two hours till midday, all Gilbert wanted to do was stuff himself and run around chasing squirrels, or practice with his ceremonial sword, or sneaking up on Antonio and scaring the poor gullible boy out of his wits. Something! He wouldn’t even protest if Elizabeta ordered that they’d do some stupid girly game. Sitting quietly was unthinkable.

But it was a Holy Day.

For the next three hours, effectively missing the midday meal, Gilbert and Elizabeta joined one of the many gardens or dome structured buildings that scattered the grounds around the cathedral for meditation. Another three hours of silence in which he was supposed to clear his mind and separate himself from his thoughts and feeling. Most of the time Gilbert just focused on how miserably hungry he was, effectively failing at the exercise.

An hour after midday, Gilbert should have dragged his charge straight to the nearest food source. But no. The two had not been able to meet up with Antonio after the initial church service which meant he was off praying in some other garden or dome. If they left him on his own he would be kneeling until someone from the cathedral staff found him and sent him home, which would be hours. Gilbert and Elizabeta had to race across the fields and peek in windows in attempt to find the other boy.  After about thirty minutes of searching they checked the garden next to the tomato field where Elizabeta complained they should have begun and found the boy. Gilbert could resist plucking two tomatoes from a vine and shoving them in his mouth.

Grabbing Antonio, they went to the kitchens to enjoy a long awaited lunch, if not especially scrumptious. Most of the best food had already been taken due to the fact that the three were a half an hour late, but the kitchen maid had saved some incredibly good stew for him. When Gilbert thanked her heartily, the girl flushed and giggled.

When she turned away Antonio winked at his friend “She’s sweet on you.”

Gilbert turned redder than the tomatoes he had been devouring a few minutes earlier.

Antonio left for the cathedral afterward. For the last few months, for reasons he would not divulge to either Elizabeta or Gilbert, he wanted to spend more time in the nicely adorned prison than he was forced to. Gilbert couldn’t even pretend to understand.

It made little difference anyway, Gilbert had to wait for Elizabeta to be bathed and pampered for the festival. Antonio had always found the idea that Gilbert stood in the room while the girl was changing horrifying (To which Gilbert would reply “Its only Elizabeta!”) and Antonio wouldn’t have been allowed in anyway. It was amusing to see his companion so utterly miserable being poked, and prodded, stripped of her usual dirty trousers and rough tunic which she had slipped into before meditation and into a corset and frilly dress that made her almost pretty and defiantly horrifying.

Wearing a dress had a magical effect on the princess, it made her even more temperamental than usual. One careless word and she would bite your head off, or you would find all manner of cooking utensils hurled in your general direction. The problem was that no matter what Gilbert said, it was always wrong. He still had bruises from the last Holy Day. Sometimes Gilbert wondered whether his services were obsolete, put Elizabeta in a dress and she was much more dangerous than he could with a million years of training.

It took an hour too! Gilbert had to stand by the door watching the women apply all matter of paints and powders to Elizabeta’s face as she glared menacingly at him as if he had any control at all over what they were doing. Sure he was making faces at her but that was no reason to give him the death glare for a half an hour straight.

 

* * *

    

_But that was nothing compared to the pressure…_

               

* * *

        

The city sate of Heil was divided into two parts, the City and the Cathedral. The outer wall marked the boundaries of the city state and the outside world, protecting the inhabitance from bandits and raiders. It shielded over 10,000 citizens. The inner walls were much less imposing it fenced in a small area of about a thousand meters in diameter where stood the Cathedral and meditation grounds as well as the housing for the priests and brothers. Lining the inner wall were the grand houses belonging to the descendants of Albert and Hajnal the largest and most grand owned by the King.

After Elizabeta was prepared, she and Gilbert were shuffled out of the King’s house by a gaggle of women with powered faces and plunging necklines to the front gates of the inner wall. Elizabeta had managed to get herself into more of a frenzy than usual, snapping at anyone who tried to talk to her and staring daggers into Gilbert’s back.

Gilbert desperately searched the crowd looking for Antonio as they neared the parade of people. The other boy was nowhere to be seen. Gilbert faced a growing sensation of panic a he realized he would be the only thing standing in between Elizabeta and innocent bystanders. Antonio was much better at keep any homicidal killing-spree to a minimum.

Elizabeta was yelling at the stable master, having the same argument she did almost every Holy Day, demanding that she be allowed to ride astride while the man insisted she ride side saddle, which was apparently more becoming of her station. The stable master always won. While she may be a princess, Elizabeta had no real power against tradition.

She made a valiant effort though, but after fifteen minutes Gilbert sat upon a white horse behind Elizabeta’s dappled mare, two legs swung over one side.

And off they went. A whole procession lead by the king and his daughter followed closely, like always, by Gilbert. Behind were all manner of courtiers and nobles who were then followed by the holy men and priests of the grand Cathedral. All servants, except for the bare minimum to maintain the Cathedral, were given the rest of the day off. They would join the  townspeople in the streets to watch the passing higher class in the celebration of God and his chosen people.

How the townspeople looked up at them, in a mix of wonder and adoration. Gilbert was given almost as much attention as the king himself and Elizabeta. He was, after all, the great Eckerd’s successor. He was the protector of the princess, the holiest man in the land. On the outside, Gilbert was jubilant waving and smiling, blowing kisses to the children and playing the part.

But that’s all it was, a part to play.

Beneath the surface, he felt the crushing pressure of who had to be, and what he now saw clearer and clearer each Holy Day, what he was not. He wasn’t some pillar of upstanding character and holiness, not like Antonio or any of his predecessors. Sometimes he thought God had made a mistake giving him the white hair and burgundy eyes of a man near sainthood.

As the hours dragged on, he smiled and waved even as he wanted to scream at the people who pushed at each other just to get a closer look at him. To yell at the parents who pointed up at him and said to their children “God wants you to be just like him.” He wanted to kick his horse into a canter and flee the streets, hell flee the city, galloping away to the farthest corner of the Bad Lands where no one would look on him with admiration that he didn’t deserve.

He felt like a fake, a poser. Some phony in disguise tricking these people into think he was some sort of gift from God, like he was better than them.

But what did he know? If God wanted to parade him on a white horse for the whole world to see then Gilbert figured he better be smiling and waving.

 

* * *

     

_…and the crushing loneliness_

 

* * *

     

It was already dark when the procession arrived back in the inner gates. Gilbert almost fell off his horse and he marveled that even after doing this every week he could still be so sore after riding. Elizabeta looked just as worse for the wear and she slid off, wincing. Gilbert looked back at the mounted courtiers filing in, searching for Antonio. He hadn’t seen him during the parade, which wasn’t in and of itself unusual considering how far back Antonio would have to ride. Usually, however, Antonio would meet them before the procession started. The nobles had already filtered in and almost all of the brotherhood had crossed into the Cathedral, still no sight of Antonio.

“I am never riding side saddle again.” growled the girl behind him.

“That’s what you say every Holy Day.” Gilbert laughed, turning to her.  

“Well this time I mean it!” she snapped, eyes sparking. She was still irate, but tired. He was safe from her wrath for now.

He sighed. “Don’t we have some boring feast to get to?” he asked.

She shrugged “I guess.” She murmured looking just as thrilled as Gilbert felt, and Gilbert wasn’t feeling altogether too thrilled.

They wandered off together toward the grand Cathedral. Most of the courtiers and holy men were heading in that direction, but they weren’t visiting for spiritual enlightenment or prayer, at least not in the usual sense. In the basement of the house of worship, was a grand hall where the Holy Day feasts were held. They trudged through the imposing doors of the temple and filed into the back. A small but strikingly lavish spiral staircase was in the far left corner of the structure, they trotted down it. They emerged on a just as lavish room with low ceilings and dim lighting. At the far side of the room was the dais for the royal family, overlooking the rest of the long tables where the holy brothers and nobles sat chatting amiable waiting for their meal. Elizabeta walked with dignity down the rows of tables to take her seat. How she walked so easily after riding so long was beyond Gilbert as he hobbled as best he could to keep up with her. They took their seats on the dais, Elizabeta just right on her father, who must have arrived earlier, and Gilbert just right of her. Gilbert caught sight of Ludwig and his parents at one of the high tables. Antonio’s mother sat with a few other women Gilbert didn’t recognize farther back in the room. Antonio’s father was on a mission trip on the outskirts of Èternel and wasn’t due back for a couple of months. No sign of Antonio though.

Gilbert glanced over at Elizabeta. She looked about ready to fall asleep in her food, her head lulling. If it hadn’t been for the servant’s whisking the bowl away and replacing it with another course, the princess might have ended up with a face full of potatoes and beans.

After a few moments she noticed his interest “What are you looking at?” demanded Elizabeta righting herself.

“Oh, just you.” He snickered.

Heat rose in her face and she seemed at a loss for words for a second, But only a second before she lashed out. “God Gilbert, you do realize its rude to stare,” she had a nasty look on her face as she glared at him like he was the stupidest thing she’d encountered that month “ _right_?” she emphasized “Like any _normal_ person would.” She spoke slowly stressing each word.

She glared at him for a second more before throwing her hands up “I swear to God!” she groaned “Would it kill you to just act like a normal human being for once! You’re so caught up in thinking you’re God’s gift to the universe because of you coloring that like UGH…” She groaned loudly and put her head in her hands.

The problem was that Gilbert liked Elizabeta. He found what most thought irritating to be amusing even endearing, like a baby alligator. While he wouldn’t say he completely understood her, he knew he’d at least put more time into figuring her out than anyone else, let alone her father. He sometimes wondered though, especially when she threw out words like that, whether she knew him at all.

But no, the way she averted her eyes awkwardly started playing with her food made it obvious that wasn’t the case. You can’t spend your whole life with someone and not know them. Whether or not she thought the words where true, she knew they would bother him.

It was times like these that he remembered that he didn’t actually matter, he was just the servant who followed her around all day and would lay down his life for her if the need arouse. A puppet for the church and a shield for the princess.

One of the things Gilbert hated about their arrangement was that he could never get away. Every second of every day with the exception of church services, was spent by Elizabeta’s side. He took the full brunt of her anger and she knew just how to get a reaction.

The last course was soon whisked away and the courtiers began to mingle. Gilbert watched the boys and girls his age laugh together in large groups. Antonio had turned up at some point during the dinner and was laughing and smiling with five or six other southern boys, eyes sparkling. Gilbert knew that he wasn’t Antonio’s only friend, but he’d always thought he was his best friend. Now after not seeking Gilbert out before or after the parade and showing up laughing with his other friends not even bothering to look Gilbert’s way made him wonder whether something changed. Or whether he’d ever mattered to the boy at all.

Why had it been today of all days this had to happen?

It was time to go. Elizabeta got up and he rose with her. They exited along with Elizabeta’s father and immediate family. The rest of the room would follow but Gilbert didn’t bother to look back and check. They didn’t speak to each other as the ascended the stairwell to the room they shared.

Gilbert followed her down the long hallway that should have housed her many brothers and sisters. They went to the very last door and Elizabeta’s hand hovered over the handle.

“I’m sorry.” She muttered almost too quietly to hear.

“Hmm.” Gilbert hummed. “I didn’t really catch that, could you say it again?”

She didn’t snap, rather laughed “Don’t shut up and I’ll kill you.” She threatened playfully.

Gilbert smiled ruefully. “Well I am rather partial to my life.”

                  

* * *

                       

_All and all, Holy Days were awful_

_But if this was going to be the last one they had together, just the three of them.  Gilbert would be damned if he let it end like this._

**Author's Note:**

> I have decided to make this a one shot, for now. I may come back to it but I don't have plans to in the near future.


End file.
